


A Chance Encounter

by irishbandlover23



Series: A Way Home [1]
Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-28 17:26:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20970287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishbandlover23/pseuds/irishbandlover23
Summary: What if Natori and Natsume met by chance earlier?The one where things happen slightly differently, and things remain more or less the same.





	1. First Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> Not all things go as planned, but the purpose was to create something for this marvelous fandom, which I did. And so, despite this not being the collaboration I expected (my partner fell through), I still want to post my part.

**First meeting**

“Leave before I grab you and kill you.” Natori glares at the laughing yokai flying about the room, throwing the room into further chaos. 

The yokai cackles, the noise making him flinch despite himself. “Let’s see how you explain  _ this,”  _ and shatters the window as it exits.

The maids arrive first, take in the room and flee, disapproval and fear clear in their eyes. He ignores them—he hopes the newer ones don’t quit, that’d add another crime on his plate—and stands in the middle of the room, eyes on the window. The yokai might return, after all. It’s a few moments later that his father barges in, taking in the broken window and papers on the floor with anger.

“What have you done?” His father thunders as he grabs his wrist.

He winces, his father has never been particularly kind towards him, attributing every error to him. Despite his fear, he mutters, “...It wasn’t me.” 

“Don’t you dare say it was those-those made up creatures!”

He frowns. “They’re real, you know that!”

His father shakes him, and he snaps. He yanks himself away and hisses, “They’re real and I can see them. I didn’t break anything, that  _ yokai creature  _ did!”

His father tenses up, and throws him a glare filled with anger and fear. “Do not talk back to me—now clean this mess up before I come back.”

He’s sick and tired of it all, he didn’t ask to see the yokai, he never cared for any of it and yet here is, paying for something completely out of his control. “I will not clean what I didn’t do.” And he runs out, ignoring his father’s yells. 

He runs out of the house, ignores the servant’s startled yells and pleas to come back. He runs like he’s being chased, because he cannot go back there, not right now, at least. 

He heads towards the town square, the one place he can blend in with the crowd, the one place he can pretend to be normal. A nameless face among equally nameless faces. He sits at a bench and sighs.  _ I’ve done it now. Father will not be pleased.  _ He hates how much he still cares. He should know by now, that things will not change. And yet… He doesn’t know how long he sits there, but he’s aware of the setting sun, the thinning crowd, the hungering pangs. 

“Guess I should go back,” he mutters to himself. 

It isn’t as if he expected to be picked up—no, he lost hope of that after the third time. Now he merely calculates the time it takes for his father to cool off, and heads back. 

He stands up and stretches. He notes a small crowd murmuring to each other, and curiously walks closer. There amidst the crowd is a young boy, small and gasping, shaking his head and yelling at the old woman, while onlookers stare at the scene in curiosity and apprehension. 

“Go away!” He yells, eyes wet but dark and angry. “Stop following me!”

“Takashi-” an old woman from the crowd reasons in a gentle, albeit hesitant voice. “No one is following you.”

The boy frantically shakes his head. “No! It’s there, behind you. I can  _ see  _ it!” 

Natori wonders, not for the first time, why he’s here, why he hasn’t moved away.  _ Stay away,  _ he thinks to himself.  _ Nothing good comes from talking to others who can see them too. _

He’s sure no one in that crowd can see it, but he can. A tall yokai with large eyes, carrying a small stick, follows the boy.  _ C’mon, I want to play, human!  _

He’s never seen a yokai that large, and he’s slightly curious, but he manages to turns around and put his back on the scene. “It’s none of my business,” he mutters to himself.  _ Nothing good ever comes from helping others.  _

_ But… _ it’s the first time he encounters another person, a child no less, who can see.  _ What if…? _

He hears the child wail, and despite himself, his heart constricts. He can’t help but see himself in the boy, scared and crying as his father and family whispered as they looked at him, cowering behind closed doors. Illnesses, broken objects, lost items—all curses blamed on him. Is that child like him too? 

He closes his eyes and sighs. “Well, it’s not as if anyone is waiting up for me,” he says as he gathers a few rocks in his hand. He throws one at the boy, and throws the other at the yokai. They both pause, no one seeming to have noticed rocks flying in the air. 

He waves to the yokai and points to himself. “I want to play, but you’re just being a big bully to that boy. No way am I playing with you.”

The yokai bristles. “I am not! Want me to eat you instead?”

He smirks, though his insides are cold as ice. “I’ll pass. Hey! If you can throw that tree down using rocks, both he and I can play. Deal?”

The yokai frowns. “I can’t throw over a tree.”

Natori laughs. “Not the whole tree! Just a branch, like this-” he throws a rock at the branch nearest to him and watches as it cracks in half. “If you can do that, we will play. Otherwise…” he shakes his head.

The yokai moves away from the boy and begins picking up rocks. “I can definitely do that!” and begins throwing the rocks with much fervor, but no success.  _ I got lucky with that branch, but this tree is young and healthy; it won’t fall down anytime soon. _

His feet are already moving forward as he pushes himself to the front of the crowd, who didn’t notice his game with the yokai but did see the kid calm down, “Hey!” 

He comes up to the child, and bends down, “Do you want some ice cream?”

The boy stares at him in shock. He smiles, awkwardly fussing his hair. “I used to see those things as well,” he says. “It was a phase,” he mutters to the old lady, who doesn’t quite appear to believe him. “We can talk it over ice cream.” He points to the shop across the street, so that the adults see he’s not a random kidnapper. “Over there.” 

The lady seems to want to say more, but she stares at the silent boy and mutters, “Natsume; why don’t you go along, I’ll tell your uncle you’ll be home in half an hour.”

The boy nods. He reaches out and grabs Natori’s hand. He stills—why is this boy…? The boy points towards the intersection. Right. Younger kids can’t walk across alone. They walk to the store, hand in hand, order two small cones, and sit down at a table that overlooks the street. 

They stare at each other. 

“Hello,” he says. Now that the kid is here and the danger is gone, he doesn’t really know what to say.

“H-hi,” The boy yelps.

“What?”

“There’ a-” 

He’s staring at his face, and his widened brown eyes keep straying, as if he’s following—oh. “You can see the lizard on my face?”

The boy gapes in shock. “What? You really can see ‘em too?”

He shakes his head—there will be plenty of time to ask questions, if he has any say in it—and says, instead, “That yokai... Why’d it follow you?” 

The boy, so honest, nervously replies, “I-it was calling me Reiko, and it wanted to play. But I don't know who that is.”

Natori ponders the question. “Maybe you had family who could see them before. I had those too.”

Natsume ponders this, and slowly shakes his head. “I don’t... have family.”

“What's your name?”

“Natsume. Natsume Takashi.”

Natori bites into his ice cream cone and mutters as he chews, “I’m Natori Shuuichi.”

Natsume seems to ponder something, and asks, “...Can I call you onii-san?”

Natori chokes on his ice cream. The boy giggles.  _ Huh, so he can smile.  _ “O-onii-san?” 

Natsume nods. “Well, you’re the first one to not-not question me,” he trails off. “And you helped me get rid of it.”

If he’s honest, the thought of being an older brother frightens and excites him at the same time. An older brother has to  _ know _ things, and he doesn’t know a thing. And yet… he finds himself yearning for this small title, for it would mean he’s not alone—that at least one person looks up to him. He blushes, but nods. “Fine. I’m your onii-san.”

The boy brightens and gulps down his ice cream. “Onii-san, when can we meet again?”

Natori smiles. “Its summer, so I can be at that park almost every day. It’s up to you.”

Natsume ponders this. “I’ll be there on Saturday, I have to ask my uncle if I can go more often.”

Natori nods. “Well,” he motions towards the door, “if we’re ready.”

Natsume picks up his trash and throws it on the trash bin, and follows him out. It’s later than usual, but there’s still light outside and that old woman is across the street. He waves at her and she waves back. 

He grabs Natsume’s hand and they begin crossing the street. He points towards the other side. “I’ll walk you over to your nanny and then head back. I’ll be at that bench,” he points to his usual spot, “at around three.”

Natsume nods, and gives him a hug. He’s bony and thin underneath that shirt, but his hands grip him tightly. He hugs back. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

He waves at the boy and woman, and turns around. “Well,” he mutters to himself. “That was fun.” He hasn’t forgotten why he was at the park, but for once, he doesn’t care. Today’s happenings let him meet someone like him, and for once, he was grateful to that yokai. “You were a pain,” he says out loud, “but I met a friend today. So thanks.” 


	2. And so we meet again

_ Tomoda: Kyoko, you hold the key to my heart. I was lost at sea, and yet—you were the only one who extended a hand, the only one who waited for this poor fool. _

_ Kyoko: Tomoda! _

_ Tomoda: (embraces Kyoko) I love you! _

_ Kyoko: Oh, Tomoda! _

_ Tomoda: You are my world, and if you'll have me, I will love you until the end of time. So please— _

He throws the script on the table in slight disgust and sighs. His agent had forcefully thrust the script to him yesterday, stating that it was a great opportunity to continue his rise as a handsome, capable, young actor. He knows those words are flattery—really, all they want is a young face to parade as their latest squeeze—but he needs the money to cover his exorcist expenses. If he had to endure a few of these frivolous roles for the sake of his true job, then so be it.

He takes a careful sip of his tea, idly glancing outside, staring at the few cars and pedestrians passing by. He’d chosen this particular cafe as his makeshift workplace because it wasn't suffocating like the city; here, he could relax, enjoy his tea, and occasionally people-watch. He ignores the small yokai mingling by the woods—the only downside was the increase in yokai. Mercifully, most were not worth the effort—Instead, he focuses on a small, light-haired boy running just a bit too fast, as if fleeing from something. There's something about the boy that captures his attention and drowns out the cars, other people, the small yokai. Maybe it’s the fact that he's running in a slow, sleepy town, or the fact that his eyes are wide and terror-stricken.

Natori shakes his head— _ It's none of my business _ —and slowly picks up his script again, when he sees it: a large yokai, chasing the boy. He freezes—what are the odds that he’d find a person who can see yokai, a child no less?—but he can't ignore the boy  _ now,  _ so he quickly throws a few bills on the table, stuffs his things into his worn satchel, and runs out the door.

The kid is out of sight but the yokai is not, so he runs after it instead, taking a paper doll out of his pocket and thinking of the boy as he murmurs, “Follow him.” The paper doll zooms away, and Natori frowns as the yokai enters the forest.  _ Does the boy not know this is the yokai’s terrain? _ He follows, ignoring the startled yokai amongst the woods, a chain of paper dolls at his hand in case of complications. He realizes, after a few minutes, that the boy is heading towards the shrine. He’s got only a few moments to approve the boy’s thinking, for the yokai suddenly stops, the shrine’s barrier firmly in place, and turns its attention towards him.

“If I can't have the boy, I'll just have you!”

Natori frowns but concentrates instead on trapping the yokai. With a light flick of his wrist, the chain flies towards the yokai, restricting its movement. He doesn't have much time—the chains break with stronger yokai, and this one is particularly strong—so he grabs a stick and hurriedly draws a purification circle on the dirt. He doesn't allow himself to flinch or falter when the yokai breaks free and stalks towards him, hissing, “Exorcist scum!” He doesn't allow this alarming development to break his concentration. He finishes just in time to dodge the yokai’s large hand swung his way, but his circle is a success: the yokai steps into the circle, and howls as the circle lights up and traps him. Natori reaches into his bag, pulls out a small gourd vase, and watches with satisfaction as the yokai screams as it’s sealed.

He closes the vase with a small lid, and places an additional paper on it, just in case. The forest is now silent: the other yokai, upon realizing he's an exorcist, have fled the area. He sighs, and only has a few moments to feel satisfied at his unintentional but successful exorcism as the paper doll alerts him to the boy’s location.

As he walks towards the shrine, he ponders how to best approach the boy. He's never been good with people, never known the right words to say, so he's almost positive he’ll mess everything up somehow. He walks towards the shrine's entrance and pauses, notes the shivers raking his body, and sighs as he takes his jacket off and gently throws it over him.

The boy gasps and pushes the jacket away, looking up at him with wide, terrified, brown eyes. “Who-who are you?”

Natori smiles, trying to appease the boy. Kids liked smiles, right? He softly murmurs, “Don't worry about that yokai; it’s gone now.”

The boy eyes him warily. “I-I don't know what you're talking about.”

_ Ah, avoidance. _ So this kid knows enough to deny the existence of yokai. If he was a nice guy, he would avoid the topic and gently broach it. However, he has neither time nor patience; especially with random boys in the middle of the woods. “What are you doing here all alone, then?”

“I-I'm—” the boy trails off, unable to come up with a lie on the spot. Natori almost wants to laugh, but he's sure that laughing at the boy won't get him anywhere, so instead, he pulls out a paper doll, and says, “This is a paper doll. It helps me track down people, send messages, paralyze yokai-”

The boy grips his jacket and nervously stutters out, “But that's-that's impossible.”

Natori’s eyes glint. “Really?”

The boy frowns, and bitterly replies, “You can't defeat something that doesn't exist.”

He winces. Why did those words sound so familiar…? “I'm an exorcist.”

He expects wide eyes, parted lips, for everything to click and miraculously make sense. What he does not expect, however, is for the boy to tilt his head, and curiously reply, “Is that like a glorified magician?”

Natori gapes at the boy, wondering, not for the first time, what he's doing. He shakes his head, and pulls out the vase that holds the yokai. It feels wrong to hand it over to the clueless boy, but what else can he do? “Here,” he says as he holds out the vase towards the boy. “This is the one that was chasing you.”

The boy looks up at him, slightly suspicious, but reaches out to touch the vase. No sooner has he touched it, that he gasps and recoils as if stung. The trapped yokai has done the trick; the boy no longer holds back his ability to see yokai. “What is  _ that? _ ”

Once again he's left gaping at the boy in shock. It's true, the vase feels wrong even to him, but that's only because he's particularly strong. Even then, all he feels is a slight distaste while holding it. But for the boy to feel it so strongly from just a mere  _ touch _ … “What’s your name?”

The boy hesitates. He’s looking at him like he’s not sure he’s real, as if he’s a demon. Well, he’s not wrong to hesitate about an exorcist. But I’m no Matoba… While lost in thoughts, the boy gasps. His eyes widen, and it’s no longer fear, but--recognition? “What is it?”

The boy sputters. “O-onii-chan?!”

He freezes. There’s only one person in the world that ever called him that--the small boy from that dreary little town near his house. “Natsume?”

“It  _ is _ you!” 

They look at each other properly now--no longer two random strangers in the middle of the woods, but two long lost friends. He holds his hand out, and Takashi grabs it without hesitation. Upon closer inspection of an upright Takashi, he wonders if he ever was this small, this frail, this ephemeral. “How old are you now?”

“Thirteen.”

The picture becomes even clearer.  _ Malnutrition _ , his mind reluctantly supplies. He ignores his mind, and lightly murmurs, “Come on. I'm hungry, my treat. A bit of a late lunch, but we  _ are  _ growing boys.”

Natsume blushes. “But I don’t have any--”

He waves him off. “Not to worry--my treat. Your beloved  _ onii-san _ is a working man now.”

Natsume smiles awkwardly, but nods in agreement. “Your hair isn’t black.”

Natori coughs, slightly sheepishly. Nothing like a kid to bring up your past… mistakes. “Well, yes. That was never my hair color. And it took too much time to color.”

They lapse into companionable silence, Natori leading them out of the forest and back to his preferred cafe. He points Natsume to his usual table, orders two sandwiches, juice for Natsume and tea for himself. As they wait for their food to arrive, Natori decides to work on regaining Natsume’s trust from the old days. “Now then, I'm sure you have lots of questions.” He smiles, trying to reassure Natsume that he's still the same safe(-ish) onii-san out there. 

“What do you do?” He asks, curiously. 

Natori shoots him his signature kilowatt smile, and is slightly put off by the lackluster response. “I'm an actor by day, exorcist by night.”

Natsume curiously eyes him. “Do other exorcists do that too?”

He imagines Matoba trying to act, and snorts. “No. I come from a  _ fallen _ exorcist family. Unlike others, I need to earn my keep.”

Natsume’s eyes flash at the word  _ family. _ “So there are other families, as well?”

He ponders, briefly, how much to tell Natsume. Natsume has always been a curious kid; it wouldn't bode well for Natsume to suddenly take an interest in the exorcist world, full of danger and deceit. The thought of Matoba getting his hands on Natsume is enough to make him want to puke. He settles for a neutral answer, replying, “There are many families; some more prominent than others.”

He sees Natsume ponder his words, notes the way that he twiddles his fingers. He hesitates, and quietly asks, “Is there a Natsume family?”

He doesn't want to shatter his hopeful expression, but he doesn't know what to say. He feels a stab of sympathy for the lonesome boy always running but never finding. “...I've not had the pleasure of meeting someone with that surname, but I'm sure I can find out.”

Natsume nods, just briefly. But before he can ask another question, their plates are set down before them. Natsume’s eyes are wide as he stares at the food, and he asks, “Are you sure I can have it? I can't pay for it.”

He waves him off. “Don't worry about it, I might be young, but I  _ am _ an adult.”

Natsume doesn't hesitate and digs in. It's clear he's hungry, and Natori finds himself wanting to please the boy who liked to follow him around. So he says, “Make sure to leave space for dessert; the sweets here are delicious.”

Natsume’s eyes brighten and then dull, and he finishes chewing before he slowly replies, “Ah, you don’t have to.” 

He wishes he wouldn’t hold himself back—he’s pretty sure he’d do anything for Natsume, a somewhat startling thought, “I want to.”

“Alright.”

They finish eating, commenting on light topics—the weather, sweets, Natori’s current acting role—and getting comfortable with each other. He finds that Natsume is thoughtful, polite, and kind.  _ The exorcists would crush him,  _ he thinks. He’d vaguely entertained the thought of making him his assistant, but no. Natsume should be kept as far away from the exorcists as long as possible.

After he pays he finds himself saying, “I'll walk you home.”

Natsume hesitates, reluctantly admitting, “It's not a nice neighborhood.”

He pats Natsume, who stiffens slightly, but relaxes. “Every neighborhood has its flaws.”

Natsume shrugs and takes off. He lets Natsume lead him towards narrowed streets and dirty buildings, and he realizes, suddenly, that Natsume wasn't trying to be polite: the neighborhood truly was awful. He crinkles his nose as they pass a drunken man, and notes the way that Natsume doesn’t even bat an eyelid.

They stop at a shabby and run-down building, and Natori finds himself eyeing Natsume warily. He can't help himself when he asks, “Why here?”

Natsume shrugs, as if expecting his question. “They were the only ones who would take me, this time.” He says it so matter-of-fact, he knows Natsume isn't lying. 

This was something he wasn't used to. Natori had left his house at a young age, but despite his family’s disapproval, he'd never been subjected to something like this. He thought he could at times see glimmers of his past self in Natsume, but it's clear they were only faint traces. Natori and Natsume were different; and yet still, Natsume was interesting in a way he could never be.

So he throws Natsume a small smile, a small lifeline, and says, “I'm usually at that cafe. Feel free to stop by anytime.” It’s not much, it won’t ever be enough, but he hopes it’s  _ something. _

Natsume nods, throws him a small but genuine smile. “I'd like that.”

Natsume turns away from him, and walks up the stairs, expertly weaving through the clearly broken boards and people exiting their rooms. Natori doesn't walk away: he stands, waiting for Natsume to enter his door. He frowns, seeing Natsume steel himself as he pushes a door open—no lock, no key—and quietly creeps inside.

He cannot move. It's instinct that tells him to stay, to wait for something to happen. He sees a woman come out from Natsume’s apartment, slam the door, and hurriedly walk down the stairs. Her hair and makeup is a mess, and she reeks of alcohol. She looks nothing like Natsume. “Move,” she hisses as she pushes him out the way.

He doesn't want to move, but doesn't want to cause a scene either. So he turns, and walks away with a heavy heart. He wishes he could do more for Natsume, for the boy so lost and alone, but he's only a Natori, the head of a house with neither clan members nor heir. Natsume is certainly capable, would be a great addition to any family—he stumbles on a rock, and furiously shakes his head.  _ I'm not impulsive enough to—I cannot care for the boy, but I’ll find someone who will.  _ And with that thought, he continues to walk forward, a new side job in mind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! :)


End file.
